


By the Light of Geonosis' Moons

by HixyStix, sempaiko



Series: Hot Bahryn ‘verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s02e17 The Honorable Ones, M/M, artwork included, partially unresolved sexual tension, smut with eventual feelings, smut with... feelings?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempaiko/pseuds/sempaiko
Summary: The escape pod missed Bahryn and landed on a different Geonosian moon: this one hotter than Tatooine.  Kallus and Zeb have to survive the heat, some angry creatures, and cactus water that makes things even hotter.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Series: Hot Bahryn ‘verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869340
Comments: 20
Kudos: 207





	By the Light of Geonosis' Moons

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to whiplashcrash and chocolatemudkip for help with beta and brainstorming!

Collapsed on the escape pod’s transparisteel viewport, Kallus tried to make sense of what had happened in the last few moments. He _hurt_ , his head swam, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He tried to take a quick inventory of his body and his surroundings.

A headache that wasn’t helped by the various beeps and alarms going off? Check.

A sharp sting where he’d hit his head on something? Check.

Right ankle throbbing? Check.

Back aching from where that lasat threw him across the pod? Check.

That same lasat passed out next to him? Check.

The _smell_ of lasat filling the hot air of the escape pod? Also check.

Kallus groaned and tried to sit up. Looking out the viewport, all he saw was golden yellow sand. He’d have to get out of the pod to see where they were, exactly. All he remembered was the pod veering off course and heading towards a Geonosian moon, but he didn’t know enough about the system to name it.

Unfortunately, getting out of the pod required him to stand and his ankle wasn’t having any of that just yet. 

The lasat – Orrelios – stirred, issuing his own groan as he rubbed the back of his head. He turned to see Kallus, expression turning into a glare.

Kallus tried to glare back, but could only muster a perturbed look. He went back to trying to stand, cursing as his ankle refused to hold his weight.

Orrelios growled a little and reached up, opening the pod hatch easily and crawling out.

Before Kallus could grumble about being left behind, a large purple arm reached back into the pod and grabbed him by the cuirass. 

“What are you doing?” he cried, reaching up to grab the lasat’s arm.

There was no answer. Unceremoniously, Kallus was dragged out of the pod and tossed to the sandy ground.

The first thing he noticed was the _heat_. The sand he sat on burned through his clothes. Hot, acrid air filled his nostrils. And the Geonosian sun beat down on him, relentless and harsh, the metal of his armor and black of his uniform soaking it up. In mere seconds, Kallus felt the uncomfortable sheen of sweat.

Orrelios clambered back into the pod and popped out of the hatch with both their bo-rifles. Looking Kallus directly in the eyes, he tossed Kallus’s weapon off to the side, out of reach.

Kallus rolled his eyes. Orrelios ducked back down into the pod, leaving Kallus a good two meters from his bo-rifle. He could crawl that far, easily.

The sand was loose and difficult to drag himself through, but he’d just about grabbed his bo-rifle when a purple foot slammed down on top of it. “ _Don’t_ think about it,” growled Orrelios, picking up the bo-rifle.

Feeling petulant, Kallus asked, “What am I supposed to think about, then, lasat?”

Orrelios’s eyes narrowed. “How easy I could crush your head.”

Kallus tried to think of an appropriate comeback, but one look at the lasat’s hands and feet told him it was no idle threat. He kept his mouth shut.

Orrelios deflated a little. “But I’d rather wait for you to heal,” he gestured at Kallus’s ankle, “so we can finish our fight fair and square.”

Sitting up so he could grasp his ankle, Kallus laughed bitterly. “You think you’re getting rescued? That your friends will come and save you? Your friends _fled_.”

Orrelios didn’t seem perturbed. Ignoring Kallus’s taunt, he looked at the metal box in his hands. He shook it and parts rattled inside.

“The transponder,” Kallus said, as if Orrelios didn’t already know. “Probably damaged in the crash. If you can repair it, reactivate its signal…”

“They don’t teach you that at Agent school?” Orrelios asked. “‘M not the mechanic of our group, but I know a thing or two.”

The sun was merciless and Kallus knew they’d need to find some shade before too long. They could crawl back into the pod, but being in close proximity probably wouldn’t end well and the air would be stifling in there, too. They needed to be in the open, under a tree or rock overhang or something of that ilk.

Kallus rotated as best he could, looking for some sign of shade. “There,” he said, pointing off to the left. “A plant of some sort. Should provide some shade.”

Orrelios followed his gaze. “Yeah. Prob’ly good.” He glanced at the black bo-rifle in his hand and then back to Kallus. “You can’t walk that far.”

“I’m sure I can make it,” Kallus said. “Give me my bo-rifle and I’ll use it as a cane.”

“Still not happening.” Orrelios looked at the bo-rifle, checking it expertly. “Modified it for close quarters fighting. Not bad.”

Kallus allowed himself a small smile.

Orrelios frowned as he grabbed the first aid kit and knelt by Kallus’s hurt ankle. “You shouldn’t have this, though. It’s not just any weapon. You have to earn it; it’s not a trophy.”

“It’s _not_ a trophy,” Kallus snapped, trying not to wince as Orrelios bound his ankle and leg tightly, using the bo-rifle as a splint. “On Lasan, I faced a guardsman. He fought well. Died with honor. He gave me the bo-rifle before he died.”

Orrelios’s eyes widened and he ran a finger down the bo-rifle. Kallus wondered if he recognized it now. “The _Boosahn Keeraw_.”

“The what?”

“The _Boosahn Keeraw_. Lasat warrior way. When you’re defeated by a superior foe, you give them your weapon as a sign of respect.” Orrelios shook his head and mumbled, “Can’t believe you got it legitimately.”

“You think I’m a thief?” asked Kallus, offended. He managed to get to his feet and tested the splint. Orrelios knew what he was doing; Kallus walked with almost no pain.

“You’re Imperial,” said Orrelios darkly. “That’s all you do. Take and take from worlds until there’s nothing left to give – and then you take the people. Look at Geonosis!”

“Geonosis?” Kallus said defensively. Orrelios wasn’t right. Couldn’t be right. “I don’t know what happened to the Geonosians, lasat, but I hardly think the Empire would do such a thing. What would be the point?”

“Ah.” Orrelios’s eyes almost sparkled in the sun. “Good question. Chase the answer and maybe you’ll find the truth.”

Kallus refused to answer. He wasn’t going to question the Empire, not when it would cost him his job or worse, his life.

The sun beat down on them and Kallus felt a familiar burning deep in his skin that said he was going to be turning red within the hour. He cursed his decision to not pick up his helmet after the lasat knocked it off on the building platform; it would have been hot, but at least it would have mostly saved his face from the sun. “We need to move,” he said.

Orrelios nodded, picking up the first aid kit and broken transponder, tucking them under his arm as he walked.

Kallus did his best to keep up, but his bo-rifle kept sinking into the sand, slowing him down. It was going to need a good deep cleaning to get rid of the sand, assuming they made it out alive.

“We’re not going to make it very far without water,” Orrelios called back to him, taking a break while Kallus caught up.

“We’re headed to a plant, aren’t we?” Kallus pointed out. “It requires water to grow, so there must be some nearby.”

Orrelios frowned. “I _meant_ that we’re barely halfway there and you look like you’ve sweated out at least a couple liters.”

Kallus gestured at Orrelios, his jumpsuit and visible fur wet with sweat as well. “You should worry about yourself too.”

“I am,” Orrelios shot back. “I’m also trying to keep you alive.”

That brought Kallus up short. “Why?”

“Because I’m not a murderer.” Orrelios’s voice indicated that he thought Kallus _was_.

Kallus pushed to catch up to Orrelios. “I’m not–”

A roar sounded off in the distance, cutting him off. The ululation echoed through the dunes such that Kallus couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. His fingers clutched at the hot sand, wishing he hadn’t dropped his blaster on the construction platform, wishing his bo-rifle was in a more useful position.

Orrelios shaded his eyes as he looked around. “We’ve got company.”

Sand shifted around them as heavy footsteps neared. Kallus looked, too. There, only one dune away, were two large green creatures. “Are those dewbacks?”

Orrelios shook his head. “Dewbacks don’t roar.” The lasat pulled his bo-rifle and readied it, positioning himself so that he was between Kallus and the animals.

The creatures neared and Kallus realized he’d never seen their species in his life. They were mottled yellow-green and large, with wide-set feet that let them move quickly over the sand, like a lizard’s, and a large horn on their nose.

As they neared, the horned lizards roared again.

“Probably calling their friends,” Kallus said. “I don’t think they’re vegetarian.”

“Oh, so you _do_ have a sense of humor, after all,” Orrelios said, though he didn’t sound amused. “Stay back.” He fired his bo-rifle into the air, just above the creature’s backs.

It didn’t drive them off; if anything, they picked up speed.

“They’re coming!” Kallus said, voice pitched.

“I see that, _Agent_ ,” Orrelios said through gritted teeth. “Wouldja let me concentrate?”

Orrelios began firing directly at the horned lizards. Kallus could see some burn marks left behind whenever he hit – which was disturbingly often; how had he not hit Kallus in battle yet? – but the creatures kept coming.

As they closed in, Orrelios focused his fire on just one of the creatures, and it kept its distance, screeching. 

The other creature rounded Orrelios and went straight for Kallus.

“A little help here?” he said, backing up as quickly as he could manage. 

“Little busy!” Orrelios answered, teeth gritted.

“Might I remind you the goal is for _neither_ of us to get eaten?” Kallus said, aware he sounded panicked. The creature was getting close enough for Kallus to smell its sour breath. He turned his head, trying to get away from the smell, as the creature roared again, only about two meters away.

The first creature stumbled to the ground. Kallus wasn’t paying enough attention to be sure that it was dead, but Orrelios finally turned around and started shooting at the horned lizard approaching Kallus.

They were close enough the lizard ought to have turned on Orrelios, but it didn’t. Only when Orrelios fired on it did it swipe out and knock Orrelios’s bo-rifle out of his hand. Kallus watched in horror as sparks came from a crucial part of the power connection; the bo-rifle wasn’t destroyed, but it would need repair before it could be used again.

“Orrelios!” Kallus cried. To his horror, he tripped and fell backwards.

The lasat growled back at the lizard and ran to Kallus’s side. Instead of helping him up, Orrelios _picked him up_ , holding Kallus under one arm. Kallus started to protest, then his leg vibrated as Orrelios used the bo-rifle splint to fire on the creature.

It hurt, the way Orrelios was twisting his already abused ankle to get the shots, but Kallus didn’t complain. Well, not verbally, at least; he yelped in pain whenever Orrelios fired. “What’s happening?” he asked, disgusted with how shrill his voice was.

“Nobody’s getting eaten today,” Orrelios said, slow and sure, firing to emphasize each word.

Kallus heard the sands shifting behind him and Orrelios stopped firing, dropping him to the ground. He landed on his rear in a most undignified manner, but he was able to see both creatures were dead. He collapsed back, breathing heavily as Orrelios went to fetch his broken bo-rifle.

“We should drag one with us,” Orrelios said. “Food.”

“What?” Kallus said, mind racing. “That would be a bad idea. You saw how they came straight for me and ignored you. They’re some kind of scent hunters.”

“And they like human.” Orrelios grinned, big and full of teeth.

“Yes. But the point is, we can’t eat the whole carcass and anything we leave will attract scavengers, perhaps more of those… things. We’d do best to leave them here and come back if we need food.” He looked at the sky. They were barely in the moon’s arc towards the sun. “It’s going to get hotter. We need shelter and water more than we need food.”

Orrelios held out a hand, helping Kallus to his feet. “We better get movin’, I guess.”

It took the better part of a standard hour, but they reached the plant they’d seen. It was some form of cacti, Kallus guessed, with exposed roots and a roof-like spread of leaves. 

In short, it was perfect. It would provide shade as well as a place to sit.

Kallus collapsed back on the cactus, careful not to jostle his ankle. He gently touched his cheeks; they were hot and sensitive. His shoulders ached as he moved; obviously he’d also gotten sunburned through his clothes.

As hot as his shoulders were, his chest and back were even hotter. It felt like he was baking himself alive. Kallus glanced at Orrelios – the lasat wasn’t paying him any attention – and made a decision: it was too kriffing hot to keep his cuirass on.

With a sigh, he unlatched the armor and slid it off, hesitating only a moment before also taking off his shirt. The fabric was damp with sweat and he let it dangle in his hand, torn between tossing it aside and laying it out to dry.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Orrelios frowning at him. Heading off the inevitable question, he said snippily, “Black and metal absorb heat and under here, I don’t need the sun protection. I’d rather not continue to bake myself if I don’t have to.”

Orrelios rocked back a little, an almost smile on his face. “Well, you’re not wrong.” The lasat undid his vambraces slowly, setting them aside before lifting off his chest armor.

By the time Orrelios undid his zipper, Kallus was caught up in the show.

He couldn’t look away and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. His stomach flipped in a way it hadn’t since before he dedicated himself to the ISB, wanting, _craving_. 

As Orrelios unzipped that horrid yellow and green jumpsuit, he uncovered strong-looking muscles and a coat of purple stripes riddled with scars – signs of a warrior.

What really caught Kallus’s eye, however, was the trail of lilac fur running down his chest and into the jumpsuit. Orrelios unzipped far enough that as he moved to slide the jumpsuit’s top down, Kallus could see he wore nothing underneath.

 _Stars, I want to_ –

Kallus cut himself off, shaking his head to try and dislodge the traitorous thought.

It did no good. Kallus was left sitting there resolutely not looking at Orrelios, heart pounding, thinking muddled, and fingers _aching_ to reach out and touch that fur. Was it as soft as it looked, even wet with sweat and exertion? He could smell Orrelios from where he sat, but he wondered what the lasat _tasted_ like, too: his skin, his lips, his cock.

Kallus bit back a groan. It was the heat getting to him. It had to be. He didn’t desire to sleep with an alien, of any sort.

Did he?

Zeb tried his best not to acknowledge Kallus’s staring. It was rude and uncomfortable, but could you expect more from a kriffin’ Imperial? Kallus was acting like he’d never seen a lasat before. Like he hadn’t participated in the destruction of Lasan.

Sighing, Zeb stood, reaching up to the leaves, pods, whatever of the cactus providing them shade. He gripped the edge, looking out past their cactus. There were more cacti in the area, but they were also surrounded by much higher dunes.

“We’re gonna need to move again sometime,” he said. “I can fix the transponder, but the signal won’t get out from here.”

Kallus gestured to the open sky above them, though his eyes never left Zeb’s body. “Can’t the signal go straight up?”

“It’ll _only_ go straight up. The dunes will block the wider transmission – and we want our signal to be heard in as many directions as possible.”

“Ah.” Kallus slumped back, still watching Zeb.

Zeb squeezed his fists around the large cactus leaf in frustration. Just because he didn’t want to kill Kallus here, where it would be dishonorable, didn’t mean he wanted to be friendly with the man.

Liquid trickled down his palms, startling Zeb. He looked up and a clear liquid was oozing out of the plant where his claws had pierced it. He tasted it – _water_.

“Karabast!” he said, jumping back.

Kallus’s eyes went wide. “What is it?”

Cautiously, Zeb reached up, over the top of the cactus, and broke the leaf off at the stem. Sitting back down, he used his claws and split the leaf in half.

Some water splashed out, but for the most part, he had two full containers of water.

“It that…?” Kallus asked.

“Looks like,” Zeb replied. He handed one half to Kallus. “Here. Drink up. We still need to move.”

“It might be wiser to stay here and move at night,” Kallus pointed out. “Avoid direct sunlight if we can.”

Zeb frowned. He wanted to get to high ground as quickly as possible so the _Ghost_ could find him, but Kallus’s suggestion _was_ logical. 

Taking a deep swallow from the leaf, Zeb noted the water had an unusual taste – a little fruity, a little grassy – and the inside of the leaf was lined with a slimy substance. It wasn’t his most pleasant drinking experience, but this was no time to be picky.

There was plenty of water in each of the leaf halves. Zeb set his aside to drink from later, but Kallus…

Kallus poured his remaining water over his head, carefully coiffed blond strands hanging loose and in his face, water streaming over his muscular shoulders and down his back. A few droplets shone where they’d been caught in his sideburns and his chest hair.

Zeb had never seen the agent like this, mussed and rough and anything but the strict man he usually was. He had the strangest urge to reach out and brush wet hair out of Kallus’s face.

Well, if he were being honest, he had the strangest urge to do much more than just touch his hair.

Of all beings, Agent Kallus. Who took part in the destruction of Lasan. Who chased his current family, who’d stood by while Tarkin and the Grand Inquisitor tortured Kanan.

 _That_ was the being Zeb was suddenly entranced by.

His skin was pink and dotted with the same tiny tan spots that covered his face, though there seemed to be a strong concentration of them on his shoulders. Zeb didn’t know the name, but he’d find out. Hera, maybe, or Kanan. Definitely not Ezra.

Swallowing heavily, Zeb looked away. Picking up the transmitter, he forced himself to focus on fixing it – and broadening the signal spectrum.

The whole time, he was acutely aware of Kallus next to him, so close he could probably get away with brushing their arms against each other. Kallus leaned back against the cactus, eyes closed, and Zeb almost thought he was asleep until he spoke.

“Are you going to fix the transmitter or stare at me?”

Zeb might be crazy, but he thought there was something different to the agent’s usual careful and precise speech pattern. “Making sure you’re not dead,” he mumbled, turning back to the transmitter.

Kallus laughed – a shallow, sarcastic laugh, not a true laugh – and sat back up. This time, their elbows brushed and Zeb’s fur stood on end.

“I’m surprised you care,” he said.

“Toldja. I’m not a murderer,” Zeb pointed out, trying to control the rapid beating of his heart. Trying to not to think about licking some of that water off of Kallus’s skin. “Try the slimy stuff.”

“What?”

“Try the slimy stuff on your skin,” Zeb said, face carefully turned toward the transmitter. “You humans burn. It might help you not hurt.”

Kallus tried it, scooping it out of the leaf and spreading it on his shoulders first.

From the relieved sigh the human made, Zeb was sure it worked. He was also sure that sigh and the sheen of the leaf goop on Kallus’s skin were going to drive him crazy. His fingers itched to reach out and help Kallus spread the stuff on his back.

“Lasan,” said Kallus, out of nowhere. “It wasn’t meant to be a massacre. We were told to pacify the population and test the T-7s.”

Zeb stopped what he was doing and openly stared at Kallus.

“We– _I_ didn’t know how bad it would be, until _my_ superiors told me to use the disruptors.” Kallus hung his head. “I know I took credit for it before, but I lied. The truth is I was only trying to survive. I would have been executed for disobeying orders if I hadn’t used them.”

Biting his lip to keep from saying anything rash, Zeb tried to think about what Kallus was saying. He’d taken part in the battle, but reluctantly, it sounded like. Or as reluctant as an ISB agent could be.

He wanted to press Kallus, to see how deep he could get the man to go, but Lira San floated in Zeb’s mind. He knew it hadn’t been a genocide after all. 

Zeb shook his head. “What happened on Lasan, it’s over, okay? It happened and we can’t go back and change anything.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, but it hadn’t been an apology either.

Kallus nodded, but he didn’t look away from Zeb. His lower lip was caught in his teeth, too, as he eyed Zeb, up and down.

A shiver ran through Zeb’s body. “Zeb,” he said. “M’name. It’s Zeb. If we’re stuck here together, you oughtta know.”

“I did know,” Kallus said. “Garazeb Orrelios, Lasan High Honor Guard Captain and Spectre Four.”

The statement took Zeb by surprise for a moment, but then he realized Kallus would know all the Spectres by name because of his work.

“You can call me Alexsandr, if you like,” Kallus said, and Zeb recognized the sentence as a peace offering. A truce, or maybe more.

‘Alexsandr’, then. They’d traded: Alexsandr for Zeb. 

That was a dangerous move. Zeb couldn’t afford to start thinking of Kallus as anything but an ISB agent. If he was more than just ‘Agent’ then…

“I need more water,” Zeb said quickly, standing so he didn’t do something stupid like take Kallus’s hand. Rounding the cactus, he broke off another giant leaf, positioned so it wouldn’t take away much of their protection from the sun. Hiding behind the leaf, Zeb dragged claws down his face.

Something was going on for him to be fighting these feelings. Even with what Kallus said, it didn’t mean the man was a _friend_ , much less someone Zeb should want to bed.

Carefully, he split the leaf in two and sat back down by Kallus, handing him half the leaf.

As before, Zeb drank as much of the water as he could before the thought hit him: _it was the leaf juice_. He hadn’t started thinking of Kallus in that way before drinking it. Kallus hadn’t confessed to anything before drinking it. And the way Zeb’s head was spinning now, full of lust, it _obviously_ had some intoxicating properties.

 _Or it’s just water_ , said a small voice in the back of his mind. _And you want to kriff the human anyway._

Snarling, Zeb forced that traitorous thought away. Instead he looked at Kallus, really _looked_ at the human. His torso and arms were riddled with scars, some larger than others. Zeb zeroed in on one on his shoulder, almost touching it, but not quite. “Where’d you get that?” he asked.

Kallus glanced down at the scar. “Onderon,” he said quietly. “A lasat mercenary, actually, working for Saw Gerrera.”

Zeb could tell Kallus wanted to say more, so he kept quiet, waiting.

“It was one of my first missions commanding a squadron of troopers. They were all good boys. Eager and young, just like I was. But I found myself on the wrong end of a stun blast, paralyzed.” Kallus shuddered visibly. ”I was awake enough to hear the mercenary going through the wounded, killing the last of my squadron. He started to kill me, too, with a vibroblade, but for some reason decided to let me live with only a scar as a souvenir.”

Zeb could only imagine: the first lasat Kallus ever saw was a member of Gererra’s extremists. Perhaps it was no wonder he followed orders on Lasan, trying to take his revenge. It might even be why he battled with Zeb so vehemently the past two years.

There was no way Zeb could think about acting on these leaf water-induced urges. Kallus was too Imperial and had too many bad memories of lasats for him to _ever_ do anything with Zeb.

Maybe he could get Kallus to go to sleep and Zeb could take care of the cock starting to peek out of his sheath. Maybe he could get through this by sheer will alone.

That idea was crushed when Kallus doused himself in water again, this time running it down his chest and stomach, wetting the front of his pants.

Zeb looked away, but not before noticing the way the Imperial uniform pants clung to Kallus’s legs. He stared resolutely at the transmitter, putting it back together. “There. Now anyone can find us once we get to the top of these dunes.”

Kallus nodded, the water quickly evaporating from his skin. “Tonight. Hopefully our people will still be searching for us then.”

Zeb frowned. He had faith Hera wouldn’t completely abandon him, but it sounded like Kallus didn’t share that faith in the Empire.

A loud crack and rumble sounded in the distance – thunder. They both stood and looked off in the direction they’d come from. A large gray cloud was headed their way, quickly.

“Is that rain?” Kallus asked in disbelief, walking to the edge of the shade.

“Looks like.” Zeb wasn’t watching the approaching storm, however, but the way Kallus’s shoulders moved as he lifted a hand to shade his eyes. Zeb knew just how much power those human muscles contained – he’d gone head to head with Kallus enough to realize how strong the man was.

The cactus juice was still working on him, because – karabast! – he wanted to see those muscles used for something other than fighting.

Ten minutes later, the first raindrops hit the top of their cactus.

Kallus limped out into the rain: fat, heavy drops that splattered on his nose and his arms as he held them out.

“Zeb!” he said, the first time he’d used Zeb’s name. “The rain is cold.”

He almost didn’t go, but – all good sense aside – Zeb was _hot_. He stood and stepped out into the rain, the sun blocked by the cloud.

Kallus was right; the drops were cooling, sapping away at some of the heat on his skin. Zeb didn’t get long to enjoy the sensation, though: he turned just in time to see Kallus take a step on his bad ankle and–

–fall straight into Zeb’s arms.

Zeb hadn’t meant to catch him. It was pure instinct.

But so was what happened next.

Zeb helped Kallus back to his feet, but the human didn’t step back.

Kallus stepped forward, into Zeb. “It’s getting to you, too,” he said, more a statement than a question.

Considering the somewhat tented state of his jumpsuit, Zeb couldn’t deny it. “It’s the cactus juice,” he said. “Otherwise…”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t either.” Kallus leaned against Zeb’s chest, reaching up to grab his ears. Pulling Zeb down to his level, he kissed him, firmly and decisively.

Zeb didn’t resist. He put his hands on Kallus’s waist, aware his fingers completely encircled the man. Did the Empire feed their people anything? He broke the kiss and worked his way down Kallus’s neck and chest, the rain washing over them as he did so.

Licking some of the rainwater off of Kallus’s chest, Zeb breathed in. The smells of wet human, sweat, and something hearty and musky were pouring off Kallus, a heady mix to Zeb’s nose. “Karabast,” he muttered, swallowing the urge to take Kallus then and there.

“Karabast,” Kallus repeated, frowning, his mouth a perfect pout. “Karabast! What does that even mean?”

Zeb growled, deep in his chest, speaking into Kallus’s stomach. “Right now, it means I want to do more to you than I can when you’re hurt. It means this hot ass moon is doing things to me and I’d rather be doing them to you.”

Kallus chuckled, a self-satisfied noise. “Whoever said that I’m too hurt for you to do anything to me?”

Raking his claws down Kallus’s front, hard enough to leave a light scratch, Zeb grinned. “Then we’re doing this. But once we go back, we forget all of it.”

Kallus narrowed his eyes. “You presume I’ll _want_ to remember any of this.”

“You will.” 

With a sharp tug, Zeb snapped the button off of Kallus’s pants and yanked them down, exposing the agent’s cock, already half-hard. 

Kallus hissed, a sound a relief and satisfaction both.

Eagerly, he reached out and caressed Kallus, marveling at how smooth a human cock was. Enjoying the sight, he thought he could fit the whole thing – balls included – in his mouth. To do that, though, he had to be able to _get to them_ properly. 

“Sit down,” he instructed.

“On the cactus?” Kallus asked, motioning to the plant they’d been sheltering under.

“Yes. If you want the best blow job you’ve ever had, that is.”

“I wouldn’t say that lightly,” Kallus warned, eyebrows raised, but he followed instructions, taking off his left boot so he could slide his pants at least partway off. He perched on the edge of the cactus, legs spread.

Giving into the lust burning through his body, Zeb crouched as low as he could go, rain streaming down his back so cold compared to everything else on this Sith-forsaken planet, Kallus included.

He grabbed Kallus’s thighs and hitched the man’s legs over his shoulders, hands supporting Kallus’s ass. 

To his satisfaction, Kallus had to grab onto the cactus to keep from losing his balance.

Slowly, exactly as he’d imagined doing, Zeb let his lips descend up on the head of the agent’s cock. It was smooth and pink and tasted almost like the agent’s musky smell that was so concentrated in those dark golden hairs at the base, so unlike a lasat’s yet Zeb savored each and every sensation, permitting himself to forget for a moment that Kallus was his _enemy_ , an _Imperial_ , and not just an attractive human spread before him.

Kallus grunted, gripping the cactus even tighter.

Smiling slightly with satisfaction, willing himself to keep up a slow, deliberate pace, Zeb worked his lips down the shaft. Despite missing the nubs and soft barbs of a lasat, Kallus’s cock was intoxicating, leaking already, a steady pulse from the veins. Zeb had seen a human cock before, but he’d never _tasted_ one, _wanted_ one quite this badly.

Enjoying the frantic squirming Kallus was doing, Zeb loosened his mouth a bit more. Pausing to make eye-contact with the panting Kallus, he allowed his lips to encase the man’s scrotum as well.

Time to keep his word to the human.

“ _S_ – _Stars_ , Or– Zeb!” Kallus cried involuntarily, babbling a bit as his hips jerked. He was forced to admit that the lasat was keeping his promise: Kallus couldn’t remember another encounter quite this pleasurable.

And oh, _karabast,_ as the lasat was wont to say, Zeb started deep-throating him. When the vibrations of a hum – or was that a purr? – started, Kallus could help but thrust forward as best he could. He reached out, meaning to grab Zeb’s head but grasping one of his ears instead. It twitched and flicked in Kallus’s grip, just as Kallus was doing under Zeb’s ministrations. 

“Zeb,” he said in a cautionary tone, the only warning he could manage.

The lasat hummed one more time and that was all it took for Kallus to come, spilling into Zeb’s mouth, hotter even than the desert moon around them. Head thrown back, he cried out wordlessly.

Panting as he finished, he looked back down to see huge green eyes watching him. Zeb set him back down on the cactus carefully and that was when Kallus noticed the sizeable bulge straining in Zeb’s jumpsuit.

“My turn,” Kallus said, pushing Zeb back onto the wet sand and going to his knees between the lasat’s legs, his ankle protesting only a little. 

Zeb didn’t waste any time pulling down his jumpsuit just enough to pull his cock out.

And what a sight it was. Dark purple, thicker and longer than any human’s Kallus had seen, lined with nubs, rising out of a wet sheath. Kallus could only imagine the treats this cock had in store for him.

He braced himself on either side of Zeb’s waist, fingers digging into the wet sand for some purchase.

“Kal– Kallus,” Zeb said suddenly. “I’m too big–”

“Quiet,” Kallus interrupted. “I know what I’m capable of.”

Urgently, _needing_ , Kallus licked at Zeb’s cock, using lips and breath and every trick he knew to pleasure the lasat. The taste was different, less musky, more spicy, and Kallus was alarmed to discover he loved it. Zeb just might ruin him, he realized, but didn’t slow down.

Zeb trembled, legs shaking, as Kallus worked. “Careful,” he panted, “I’m gonna–”

“Come,” Kallus instructed, lips barely touching the quivering head.

Zeb’s claws tore at the sand and Kallus took that as his sign to pull out all the stops. He sank down on Zeb’s head, taking as much of the lasat in as he could, twirling his tongue around the nubs, feeling soft spikes hardening as Zeb rushed toward climax.

And then, suddenly, it was happening. Zeb snarled, hips spasming, and he erupted into Kallus’s mouth. The spend was salty, slippery, sliding down Kallus’s throat, surprising Kallus with just how _much_ of it there was.

Kallus pulled off Zeb, licking his lips for the last tastes and watched the lasat shiver as the cooling rain poured off the edges of the cactus and down Kallus’s back.

That _damn_ cactus. They needed the water, but if that’s what it made them do…

Well, Kallus would do it again. Survival, after all.

The rain only lasted an hour, but it was long enough for both Kallus and Zeb to dress, not meeting each others’ eyes, and set out their respective cactus leaf cups to fill with what water it could catch.

The heat returned, muggy this time as the rain evaporated from the sand, more miserable than before.

Kallus sat next to Zeb in the lengthening shade of the cactus, head leaned back against the plant, eyes closed to rest. They were going to need to hike come nightfall and Kallus had spent a lot of his energy already. Not that he regretted it, but…

“It was the cactus, right?” Zeb said suddenly. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but I wouldn’t normally do that.”

“We established that beforehand,” Kallus said without opening his eyes. 

Zeb was quiet for another bit, allowing Kallus to almost drift off to sleep, but of course he spoke up again. “I, uh, need more water,” he admitted.

Kallus looked at him askance for a second but sighed. “We should probably both have some.”

Hesitating before breaking off another leaf, Zeb said, “We know what to expect this time.”

Recognizing his words for the question they really were, Kallus shook his head. “I have no plans for a repeat performance,” he said. 

It wasn’t technically a lie; he wanted to try something new with Zeb’s magnificent cock, such as see if it could fit inside him. He refused to let the lasat know that, however. Kallus prided himself on his self-control and he’d already broken once; Force be damned if he would break a second time, no matter what – if anything – was in this cactus.

Kallus drank the water from the leaf handed to him. He and Zeb dared to look at each other after and in the pit of his stomach, Kallus knew there wasn’t a drop of anything in that water. He still wanted to bed Zeb, but it was the same dull, aching desire as a moment before, not the sharp, desperate need of earlier.

Everything they’d done had been of their own free will, their own lusts, not anything thrust upon them.

“Kal–” Zeb started to say.

“Don’t.” Kallus turned away.

They sat that way, in silence, until the Geonosian sun dipped below the horizon and a chill settled over the desert. 

Kallus looked around. It wasn’t that dark; light still reflected off Geonosis itself. He could clearly see the cacti on top of the sand dunes that Zeb wanted them to reach.

“We should go,” Zeb said quietly.

“Wait,” Kallus said, a sudden thought hitting him. “What if we run into those lizards again? Swap out your bo-rifle for mine so you don’t have to manhandle me again.”

Zeb looked wary of the idea.

Kallus sighed. “You can swap them back when we reach the high ground. It’s the practical move for our safety, unless you want to _wrestle_ with those… things.” He bent down and started untying the splint on his leg.

“I’ll get it,” Zeb huffed, bending down in front of Kallus. Their eyes met briefly and Kallus felt his cheeks burning; the only thing in his head were thoughts of Zeb swallowing him whole.

The lasat made quick work of the splint, swapping out Kallus’s bo-rifle for Zeb’s broken one, and they set off across the sand.

There was plenty of residual heat radiating from the sand, but the air itself was cold enough Kallus put his shirt back on and Zeb zipped up his jumpsuit. They carried their armor, ready to drop it if one of those horned lizards showed up.

As they trudged through the sand, Kallus heard the roars of the lizards in the distance. They seemed much more active at night, but thankfully none seemed close by.

That is, until they reached the top of the sand dune. Zeb stopped to turn on the transponder and Kallus turned around to see where they’d come from.

At the bottom of the rise stood a lizard; probably young from its smaller stature. Juvenile or not, it started up the dune in their direction.

“Zeb!” Kallus said, voice pitched. “There’s one of those things!”

Almost before he’d finished speaking, Zeb was firing the bo-rifle at the lizard. He hit it on the rump and the creature cried out, running away from the next volley.

Kallus breathed a sigh. They’d lucked out with that encounter.

“Hm,” said Zeb, watching the creature run off. “Guess after you bathed yourself in that cactus stuff, you don’t smell as much like food anymore.”

Kallus resisted the urge to check if he did, in fact, smell. “I’m surprised it’s me and not you they smell,” he said, trying to recover some dignity.

Zeb grinned. “Lasat smell like a fight. _You_ smell like food.”

Shaking his head, Kallus marched up to the nearest cactus, sitting down on the sand and leaning back against it. “One of us should keep watch and let the other sleep,” he said.

Zeb sat on the roots, bo-rifle still ready. “You sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

Though he suspected the real reason for Zeb’s offer was to keep a bo-rifle out of his hands, Kallus nodded and closed his eyes. As he drifted off, he tried not to think about why he felt so safe in the presence of an enemy – a _lasat_ , at that.

Zeb jerked awake when the sun rose, beams of light and heat hitting his face. He looked around guiltily; he hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Luckily, Kallus was still out for the count, snoring quietly.

Quietly, Zeb crouched and started to swap out the bo-rifles again, but the movement woke Kallus.

Zeb licked his lips – dry and chapped now – as he looked up at Kallus. He still wanted to take the man, to possess him if he could, but there was more to it now. He’d had to admit it wasn’t the water, but now he was realizing there was something connecting the two of them. Lust, maybe, or understanding, or some combination of both.

Either way, Zeb found himself not wanting to fight Agent Alexsandr Kallus of the ISB anymore and he was pretty sure Kallus didn’t want to fight _him_ , either. They might be forced to, anyway, but for now…

A whine caught Zeb’s attention. He swiveled his ears and looked up. “A ship,” he said, even though they could both see it.

“That’s not an Imperial ship,” said Kallus, sitting up. “It is one of yours?”

Zeb shook his head. “Not one I recognize.”

They stood side-by-side, watching the ship – some Corellian make that was good for smuggling – land at the bottom of their dune.

The ramp lowered and a human stepped out, calling up to them, “Caught an emergency beacon from here. I guess that’s you two?” The woman eyed them suspiciously.

Zeb supposed that was fair. A lasat and an Imperial? They made quite the odd pair.

“We need passage back to our people,” Kallus replied. “I can pay you for both upon my return to the Empire.”

“No,” Zeb said quietly. “You go alone. The Empire, they’ll suspect something if she talks about a lasat on board. And I can’t let you know where the Rebellion is. You’d better leave me here. My friends will come.”

Kallus looked at Zeb sternly. “Do _not_ sacrifice yourself on my account, Zeb.”

“It’s not a sacrifice. They’ll be here.”

Kallus nodded. “Until next time, then,” he said, holding a hand out to Zeb.

Feeling oddly sad about Kallus leaving, Zeb shook his hand and watched him start down the hill.

A _handshake._ After all they’d been through. After what they’d done to each other. After knowing that Kallus would haunt his dreams in a much different manner from then on out. Could he let Kallus leave like that?

“Wait!” Zeb called.

Kallus stopped about a third of the way down and turned back.

Zeb skipped and slid down the dune until he caught up to Kallus. Without waiting for permission, he grabbed the human’s head and pressed their foreheads together, a traditional farewell between Honor Guard members and bonded warriors.

Kallus’s eyes went wide at the contact and he leaned forward – obviously not knowing what Zeb had meant by the gesture – and pulled Zeb into another kiss. Slow and sweet and tender, this one was a stark difference from their first kiss in the rain. “Goodbye, Zeb,” Kallus whispered against his lips.

Still holding the back of Kallus’s head, Zeb impulsively rubbed their cheeks together, scenting Kallus the best he could in a short amount of time. Claiming Kallus the best he could.

“What are you doing?” the agent asked, more curious than upset.

“Ask me when we meet again,” Zeb said. “Goodbye, Alexsandr. Get back to your Empire, but don’t relax. Ask questions. Seek out the answers. Be your own man.”

Kallus nodded. “I promise.”

Zeb felt he really meant it.

He stepped back then and let Kallus continue to the ship, watching until it was off-planet and out of sight. Once it was gone, Zeb slunk back to the cactus and collapsed in the shade, suddenly aware of just how miserable he really was. They’d stayed hydrated, but hadn’t had anything to eat in over a day, it was kriffing hot again, and he had sand worked deep into his fur under his jumpsuit.

Not that he was going to complain about how it got there.

At a loss for anything else to do, Zeb went back to sleep again, the transponder sitting next to him.

Another high-pitched whine – a very familiar one – woke him a bit later. _The Ghost!_

He stood, taking a second to gather up his bo-rifle and walked to meet the landing ship, squinting against all the sand it blew into the air.

Ezra jumped off the ramp before it finished lowering. “Zeb! I knew you’d make it!” He punched Zeb in the arm and Zeb grabbed him in a hug.

“We picked up your beacon. We were so worried,” said Hera, as the others joined Ezra.

Zeb scratched the back of his neck. “It wasn’t so bad. We’ve all been in tighter spots. An’ I knew you’d find me eventually.”

Ezra wriggled out of Zeb’s grasp and fanned himself. “Okay, you’re safe. Come on, it’s really hot out here.”

Rolling his eyes, Zeb herded everybody back on the ship, accepting a backslap from Kanan and hugs from Sabine and Hera.

“What do you need? Water?” Hera asked as they entered the common room. 

“Nah, I actually had water. What I want is a shower and food,” Zeb said, itching to get all of the sand out of his fur. 

Kanan gestured towards the living area. “Go shower. Ezra will cook something.”

“Hey!” protested Ezra, but he shut up when Sabine elbowed him.

Chuckling, Zeb dropped his bo-rifle off in his cabin, picked up fresh clothes, and headed to the shower.

The sonic felt good, a thrum through his body, ruffling and cleaning his fur, but Zeb stared at the controls for a few minutes before reaching out and switching it to a water shower, cold as he could get it.

Zeb turned, letting the shower run down his back, rinsing the last of the sand. 

He wasn’t sad to see the sand go, but… it was one last memento of what happened with Kallus. There was no way he could tell his family about it – not the sex, not the cooperation – in a way they’d understand. They’d certainly not understand the way he took himself in hand as he remembered the way the agent had tasted in his mouth, or how he’d managed to swallow a surprising amount of Zeb’s length. 

Zeb groaned quietly, wondering if Kallus was back with the Empire yet, or if the man had forgotten him yet.

The water worked its way into his fur and Zeb knew _he_ wouldn’t forget.

Kallus stood under the spray of water, the spigot at chest level, feeling not the recycled water of a trader’s ship – smuggler’s ship, more like it – but the surprise rain of a desert moon.

He leaned against the back of the shower stall, letting the spray run over him, washing away the sweat and sand. Eyes closed, he thought of his last moments on that moon.

The forehead touch – he’d seen it before, on Lasan. It was something important enough to the lasat warriors that they’d taken time to do it even when under attack. Kallus supposed it was a farewell or a benediction, since he’d only seen it before being attacked by the warriors involved.

And Zeb had chosen to share it with him. Somehow, the lasat had deemed him worthy. Worthy of that, worthy of kissing, worthy of giving him instructions.

‘Ask questions’. Kallus had never asked questions before. But had he never asked because he trusted in the rightness of the Empire or because he was scared of the answers?

To his chagrin, he had to admit, it was partly the latter.

But that would change, Kallus swore to himself. Starting with finding out _why_ Lasan had needed to be an example. Then perhaps finding out what building project had been moved from Geonosis seven years before.

And then he’d track down those Rebels, the Spectres again. He’d find out what Zeb meant by the cheek-rubbing motion and whether or not he’d really meant that last kiss.

Kallus had meant it. He’d prove it.


End file.
